


Survival Under Extreme Conditions

by bookgazing



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookgazing/pseuds/bookgazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Alison saves Beth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survival Under Extreme Conditions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aphrodite_mine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/gifts).



_The person you are calling is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone._

Beth grimaces and presses the palm of her hand against her forehead. When Alison didn’t pick up the first time, Beth made a bargain with herself. Third call’s the charm. Just like in the fairy tales: three wishes, three sisters, three chances. Either Alison answers before the third call goes to the machine or Beth confesses to the void, sets her plan into motion and waits to see what will be. 

No going back. Beth hears the beep and begins. 

‘Alison. I… I’m calling because… I’m going to the train station. I’m –’ she huffs out a deep breath and steadies her voice. ‘I’m scared that when I get there I might do something stupid. I’m scared I might not come back. You have to stop me, OK? Come stop me, Alison. Please.’

* * *

The bar is dim and dingy. Alison frowns at the water rings on the table and shifts her feet on the sticky floor. All cop bars have a slouch about them; a way of fitting their atmosphere to the most self-pitying days on the job. Still, this one is particular gross.

Beth knows why Alison picked this dive even if she can’t keep from crinkling her nose up at the decor. There are perks to drinking in a bar packed with Beth’s colleagues. Cop’s “sisters” come with a code attached – no hassle, no cut-offs and one solid promise. If you can’t walk in a straight line you won’t walk home alone. And, with the aid of her Visa card, Alison is working hard to sure that promise doesn’t go to waste. 

‘Another?’ she says brightly and right on cue. Ten minutes without a drink in her hand and the air is crackling with polite tension.

It’s been three hours since they arrived, sore and loose, from shooting at the police gun range. They’re both seven drinks past sober. Alison’s eyes are turning glassy and she’s starting to sway even while sitting down. Beth knows she should talk her out of another round, call a cab and get them both to their beds. The trouble is her bed will smell like Paul. So, instead she leans back and says, ‘Sure.’ She tries not to feel guilty at the relief on Alison’s flushed face. 

A month ago, Beth came crashing into Alison’s life like an asteroid. And it seems that every other day she throws a live grenade into the crater. The least she can do is keep the woman company while she drinks herself into oblivion.

‘And get two shots as well. I’ll call your dick of a husband and pretend to be you again. We’ll drink the bar and stay at a hotel.’ 

Alison flashes her credit card. ‘Donny’s very happy to let me take control of the finances.’ A shy and wicked smile crosses her face. ‘I’m so responsible after all.’

Beth smiles back. She does her best not to notice how much trouble Alison has with the word ‘fiscally’, or that when Alison walks to the bar table she wobbles like a newborn giraffe. The tequila helps her block out those and other salient details.

* * *

Beth and Alison’s friendship is simple - they support each other as they self-destruct.

They run together. When Beth runs so hard and so far that she heaves, Alison hands her the water bottle and stands silently by her side while she spits. Alison decides to push out set after set of mindless crunches in the grass at the side of the running track. Beth presses an ice pack to her stomach after she’s finished. 

They shoot together. When Alison comes out of her booth with tear tracks on her cheeks and steel in her eyes, Beth buys her a coffee. When Beth blasts through a clip, missing her target on purpose, Alison lets Beth turn up the music on the drive back.

They drink together. At least one night a week is blurry and buzzed.

They never say ‘No’. They never shout ‘Stop’. They never say ‘You’re tearing yourself apart when you’re better whole’. 

That’s not how their friendship works.

* * *

They may not be responsible friends, but Beth tries to be a _good_ friend at least. She gets Alison a gun. She teaches her how to shoot, and shoot well. Firepower seems the perfect gift for the woman who has everything and yet has lost control. 

It takes all her cop skills to case Alison’s house without getting spotted. The Neighbourhood Watch is far too diligent and her family is always around. Eventually, she makes it to the door. 

The look on Alison’s face makes Beth wonder if she’s made a huge mistake. Coming to Alison’s home? Bringing all this clone shit to her doorstep? She smiles weakly and offers up the gun in the bright pink gift bag. It seemed hilariously appropriate the night before.

‘Want to go shoot something?’ 

Alison pauses, then laughs tightly. Her heart breaks in her eyes as she laughs. ‘Very much. I would like that very much indeed.’

She’s terrible at first, but she relishes learning. Weeks later, Beth watches as she hits target after target; putting holes in all the crucial areas for incapacitating an attacker. Her shots are neat, efficient, and precise. It feels good to put her back in control. A good deed. A wish made real. 

Beth takes her gun into the next door booth and tries to make herself feel the same way.

* * *

The tunnel starts to vibrate with the rumbling of a train. It’s getting late. No sign of a fairy tale saviour. 

Beth steps over the painted line. She stretches onto her toes and leans towards the rush of air from the oncoming train; waits for the point where all she can do is fall. 

_Well goodbye, Alison. I guess we weren’t designed to save each other._

An angry, wiry force of nature yanks her back from the edge, throws her to the floor, and pins her down. Alison. Alison with wet hair and no make-up; red in the face from running and crying at the same time. Alison, who whacks Beth hard across the face and shakes her over and over again. Alison, Alison, Alison. 

‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare try and leave me alone with this, Beth!’

‘Cosima…’ Beth gasps weakly.

‘Cosima knows all the Latin names for the things they made us from. I can’t be the only one left who feels so out of control.’

Beth nods, coughs, and Alison finally lets her up. They crawl over to the back of the platform and lean against the wall to catch their breath. 

‘And the next time you call for help, you could at least turn your phone on. I’ve been – Oh!’

_Next time._ Both of them heard it. _Next time._

And suddenly they are locked in a rough hug. ‘There won’t be a next time,’ they both whisper in tandem. ‘I swear. I swear. I swear.’

* * *

From the other end of the platform, a woman in a dark hoodie watches them until they leave. Then she slinks away, already reaching for her phone and a familiar voice.


End file.
